The Adventures of Brooklyn
by EnduranceInHope
Summary: These are the adventures of Brooklyn. Friend and companion to Captain America. One other thing, she's a black lab. What happens when you introduce a dog into the Avengers? We'll see. Written by TaliesinTaleweaver, ModernDayBard, and EnduranceInHope (Previously WovenInASong).
1. Author's Note

Hi Everyone!

Thank you for choosing to read "The Adventures of Brooklyn." There was such a positive response to the one-shot "Brooklyn" that two fellow authors and I have decided to continue the tale. Joining me in writing Brooklyn's adventures will be ModernDayBard and TaliesinTaleweaver, both of whom are amazing writers. I hope you all enjoy!

Blessings- WovenInASong


	2. On Your Left

**Hello! This is ModernDayBard, helping my friend WovenInASong with her new series 'The Adventures of Brooklyn'. Here's my stab at a Steve/Sam/Brooklyn scene. I don't own the Avengers, Sam Wilson/the Falcon, or Brooklyn.**

The sun was only just peeking over the Capitol Building, clear on the other side of the National Mall, but Sam Wilson had already run two laps around the Reflecting Pool. The habit of early rising, instilled in him by military life, was not an easy one to break. Besides, this was one of the only times he could avoid the crowds, given that the famous cherry blossoms were almost in peak bloom, and he liked to get a few laps in before his friend and training partner showed up.

_*I just want to put in a few before I start hearing that annoying—*_

"On your left!"

_*Of course.*_

"Wroof!"

_*What?_* Sam shook his head to clear it. He must've been hearing things. He re-focused and kept running. He may not be able to beat Steve, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to—

"On your left!"

_*Yeah, yeah, yeah.*_

"Wroof!"

_*Is that a—?*_ Sam felt his pace falter. That couldn't have been what he thought it was—could it? This time, he kept note of the rhythm in his head and just when he knew that Steve was—

"On your left!"

Sam turned to look in time to see a four-legged black blur race past him, chasing after the Captain.

"Wroof!"

_*Seriously?*_

When the run was over at last, an exhausted Sam glared at his friend. "Seriously, Steve?"

Rogers' confusion was evident. "What's wrong?"

"I've gotten used to you beating me, but do you know how humiliating it is to get repeatedly lapped by a _dog_?" He spared a moment to give a half-impressed, half-exasperated look to the black lab lolling in the grass between them.

Steve laughed, reaching down to rub the dog's head. "Sam, meet Brooklyn. Turns out they tested the serum on her before they gave it to me. You know, to make sure it was safe for humans. They didn't know what to do with her so they froze her. I took her in after someone found her and—"

"And you decided to humiliate me further. I see how it goes. So I have to go back and say I was lapped by a lab?" Brooklyn stood and, still panting, ran up to Sam and nosed his hand. With a wry grin he rubbed behind her ears.

"Maybe you just need to work harder." Steve couldn't resist a jab at his friend, and got just the unamused dead-pan expression he expected in response.

"Can she outrun you?"

Steve looked at his dog, whose tail was gently waging and who didn't seem winded anymore. "Close, but not really, as we discovered last bath time..."

At the word 'bath' Brooklyn froze, then tried to hide behind Sam, who shook his head. The crowds were thickening now, full of parents drawn by the history of DC and the blossoming trees, and kids drawn reluctantly by their parents. Steve managed to coax Brooklyn out from behind Sam with some encouragement, and clipped her leash on, explaining: "She's pretty easy-going but in a crowd like this, it's probably best to be safe."

The two soldiers turned their back on the Mall and began heading to the less-crowded area of Georgetown, which the tourists seemed to have abandoned in favor of the Mall.

"I hate the Cherry-Blossom Festival. Can't walk in a straight line for all these people," Sam grumbled.

"Hey grumpy, up for some breakfast?" Steve asked, angling for a favorite spot of theirs.

"Only if you're buying."

"Why me?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at the Captain. "Well, I'm not about to make the lady pay," he replied, indicating Brooklyn who walked between them, tail wagging happily as the two friends bantered.


	3. I Don't Like Dogs or do I?

_**This one is written by TaliesinTaleweaver. We don't own the Avengers, just Brooklyn. **_

It was watching her.

Natasha didn't turn around but she could feel it behind her, just inside the door. She continued pounding the punching bag, not pacing herself but throwing all her strength into each jab, and pretended to ignore it. If she ignored it, maybe it would go away.

Right. Because that's how life worked.

She focused on her workout, concentrating on her strikes—jab, cross, right hook, uppercut. She could hear _it_ breathing in the doorway.

It whined—and for a moment Natasha was back on the train again, the sounds of yells and gunshots in her ears, and underneath it all: a small, terrified whining. Natasha squashed the memory with a solid, thumping right hook that made the punching bag jump on its chain.

No.

She wasn't going back to that day, not even in her mind. She hit the bag again, harder and harder. She had driven herself relentlessly for years—_decades_—so that she would never again have to feel as helpless as she had on that train, and she was _not_ going to relive that horror just because Rogers decided to let his stray mutt roam about the tower.

She threw a last jab, then glared at the punching bag and gave it roundhouse kick just because. Then she hung up her gloves and . . . stopped. There was just one tiny, slight problem, a problem that sat on its haunches in the doorway and looked at her with its head cocked to one side. There was no way to squeeze out of the gym around _it_.

Natasha made a shooing motion with her hand. "Scoot," she said. "Go on."

The problem cocked its head toward its other shoulder and panted. Natasha swore it was laughing at her.

"Move," Natasha demanded, taking a firm step forward. If she showed it who was dominant, it would have to obey, right? Right?

Wrong. The problem whined.

Natasha walked right up to it. She was not going to lose a contest of wills with a—with _that_. "Get out of the doorway."

_Whine_.

"Shoo."

_Whine_.

As far as Natasha could see, she had two options. One: stay in the gym all night. Two: actually touch the dog in order to get out.

With those choices on the table, staying the gym all night was starting to look more and more appealing. Natasha squared her shoulders. No, this was ridiculous. She was leaving the gym, with or without the cooperation of the hulking black mass clogging the exit.

Right then.

Natasha took two quick steps forward. For a moment, she felt fur and coiled muscles brush against her leg and then she was out in the hallway, free.

She sighed.

Oh, and _now_ the dog decided to move. Great. Natasha frowned. No, it wasn't just moving. It was following her. She didn't turn around but she could hear its claws clicking against the floor, could hear its breathing.

"Why?" she said. "Why?"

"Why what?"

Natasha nearly jumped at the unexpected voice from around the corner, then frowned. "Your dog, Rogers. Why won't it leave me alone?"

Rogers laughed, in entirely too good a mood for one in the morning. "I guess Brooklyn likes you."

"Tell her to unlike me."

Rogers patted his leg and the big lab bounded over to him. He reached down and scratched its head. "How can you not like this face? Look at her."

Natasha did not look at it. "I don't like that face," she snapped. A hurt look flashed across Rogers's face and Natasha sighed. "I mean, I don't dislike your dog in particular. I just don't like dogs. Or pets. Or animals."

"Why not?"

"I don't need a reason. Just—make it to stay away from me, okay?"

Rogers gave her a bemused look. "Fine, Natasha." He bent down and looked the dog in the eyes. "Natasha wants you to keep your distance, Brooklyn. Got it?"

The dog woofed. Rogers stood up. "See, Natasha? She's got it."

Clearly, the dog didn't get it, because the next night it was right back in the doorway, making its presence known with its whining and shifting.

Trying to focus on her workout with Rogers's dog watching her, Natasha couldn't help remembering the first time she had stood in front of a punching bag, her little child hands swallowed in adult sized boxing gloves, just days after the train. Little Uncle—one of her father's associates whose foreign name Natasha hadn't been able to pronounce—stood next to her, explaining the art of violence, demonstrating techniques, correcting her attempts. Every night it was the same: training for hours until Natasha was so exhausted she could barely stand, and yet she still begged Little Uncle for "just one more round, just a few more minutes", because when they boxed and sparred Natasha felt powerful, in control. Even though Little Uncle always won, Natasha knew that, little by little, she was leaving behind the frightened and helpless little girl she'd been on the train. She knew that the next time there was a threat she could protect herself. She could protect—

She stopped abruptly. Enough for tonight. She eyed the doorway. Again, Natasha had to edge past the dog to get out. And again, the dog followed her down the hallway. This time, though, Rogers didn't conveniently materialize to corral his property. Instead, the dog kept padding after Natasha, getting closer and closer until it was walking beside her.

"Shoo."

_Woof_.

"Go away."

_Whine._

Natasha sighed. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

The dog panted and rubbed its head against Natasha's leg. Natasha froze. "Don't—why are you touching me?"

The dog stared up at her with its liquid brown eyes. It sat, its haunches thumping against the floor.

"No," Natasha said sadly. "You are not my dog. I do not care about you." The last part was barely more than a whisper. "At all."

The dog whined, her tail swishing against the floor. Natasha opened her bedroom door, stepped inside, and shut the door firmly. She heard a mournful whine and snuffling, and then saw the tips of the dog's paws trying to squeeze themselves beneath the door.

Natasha walked away and sat on her bed, waiting for Rogers's dog to go away.

The dog didn't go away. She stayed there in the hall, scrabbling to open the door. Every so often, she would give up and whine softly, then start trying to open the door again.

Finally, Natasha couldn't take it anymore. She got up and yanked the door open. Brooklyn all but fell into the room, eyes wide with surprise.

"No," Natasha said. "Stay."

To her surprise, Brooklyn did so, sitting there in front of the door.

Natasha sat down in front of her, cross-legged and leaning back on her hands. "It's not your fault." Natasha sighed. "I don't know why I'm explaining myself to you. You're a _dog_."

She paused. Brooklyn gave an encouraging bark. Natasha shook her head. "Fine, then. Here's the thing: if I don't get attached to you, then I won't care when you die." 

Brooklyn made a huffing sound and tilted her head to the side.

"Don't act so affronted. You'll die someday. Everybody dies someday."

Brooklyn whined and scooted forward. Natasha jumped to her feet. "No! That is all, and you are _not_ allowed in my room."

She slammed the door. On the other side, Brooklyn gave a whine that managed to sound both offended and pleading. Natasha ignored it and went to bed.

Natasha was hardly surprised the following night when, halfway through her workout, she heard the now familiar sound of Brooklyn settling in the doorway. As Natasha practiced the skills she'd honed steadily for nearly all her life, she could hear Little Uncle's voice in her head, giving her tips, pointing out improvements, praising flawless delivery. She hadn't thought of him this much in years—but of course, with Brooklyn dogging her every step, reminding her of the train, Natasha could hardly be surprised.

This time when Natasha left the gym, she let her hand brush across Brookyn's head as she went past. Brooklyn wagged her tail and loped alongside Natasha, giving her hopeful glances until Natasha reached down and patted her head.

"It's not true," Natasha said abruptly. "I told Rogers I don't like animals but that's not true. I used to have a dog, when I was a child. His name was Slava. I don't know what kind of dog he was. One of our guard's dog had had puppies. Ivan—that was the guard—brought me one because he said children shouldn't be alone. My father wasn't happy about it. He said pets just complicate things. He said they're distractions. "

Natasha paused. Brooklyn whined, pushing her nose against Natasha's hand.

"And then I was taking the train back from visiting my grandparents in Moscow, and I had Slava with me. The train was attacked by bandits."

Natasha and Brooklyn had reached Natasha's bedroom now. Natasha sat down in the hall heavily, leaning against the door, and drew her knees up to her chest. "Little Uncle was with me. He was my bodyguard. He's the best there was at what he does and he kept me safe. But Slava got shot. It was ridiculous. Who shoots a dog? It was a stray bullet, I think."

Brooklyn looked up at Natasha then slowly lowered herself down until her head was resting on Natasha's foot. Natasha didn't push her away. She reached down with one hand and ran her fingers through Brooklyn's fur. "My father was right, I suppose. Slava _was_ a complication, a distraction. But he was worth it, don't you think?"

Brooklyn whined.

"I asked Little Uncle to teach me how to fight after that, because I thought that maybe if I could have fought on the train, defended myself, then Slava wouldn't have died." Natasha shrugged. "And now here I am. What am I now, aside from a spy and a fighter? That's what I do. That's _all _I do."

Natasha looked down at Brooklyn. "Maybe I _need_ a distraction. What do you think?"

Brooklyn sat up and licked Natasha's face, her tail wagging excitedly.

Natasha laughed.


	4. Hydrophobic

_**Hello All! WovenInASong here for the next installment of Brooklyn's adventures. I don't own the Avengers… *sigh* But I do own Brooklyn **_____

It was hot. The Avengers were naturally acclimated to all sorts of weather, but today the sun was getting to all of them in one way or another. Tony, being Tony, had designed a new pool and, being anxious to test it out, declared a pool party. The others (with the exception of Thor who had yet to return from Asgard) were happy to accept.

They were having a great time. Bruce was doing laps. Steve and Clint were fixing up a table for food, Brooklyn begging them for treats. Natasha and Pepper were lounging in the separate pool and Tony... had a rather devious plan in mind.

"CANNONBALL!" The sound of a body hitting water was soon followed by enraged cries from people in the general path of the spray. 

"That was uncalled for Stark," Steve said. He glanced around, relieved to find that most of the food was okay. There was something missing though, or rather someone.

"Brooklyn!" The captain whipped around, scanning the area. "BROOKLYN," he called again. The rest of the Avengers, noting the concern in their leader's voice, began to scour the area for the lost lab.

"Over here Cap." Tony had found Brooklyn huddled behind the maintenance shed. Steve arrived to find his dog soaking wet and cowering like she had been hit.

"What's wrong girl?" he asked. "Why are you all the way over here?" He reached out, stroking her head as she let out a pitiful whine. "Come on back." Steve started to walk away.

"Uh Steve, she's not coming," Clint said. The captain turned to see that Clint was right. Brooklyn had parked herself on her haunches, her look daring Steve to force her back to the pool.

Steve, who was just as wet as his dog and still slightly irritated at Tony was having none of it. He marched back over and grabbed a hold of Brooklyn's collar to give it a slight yank . . . only to have the lab resist.

"Yeah, that's not going to work," Tony remarked. Natasha awarded him with a slap to the back of the head for his smart aleck comment.

"I don't get it, she has never intentionally disobeyed me." Steve was baffled to say the least.

"Maybe she's scared of the water." Again, Tony's efforts were rewarded, with a glare this time.

"A hydrophobic lab?" Clint was skeptical. "Wouldn't that be kind of ironic considering that they are breed for duck hunting?"

"Ironic yes, but it would make sense," Steve replied. "She has been avoiding the pool all day. That and it would explain why she hates baths so much." Bruce handed Steve a towel and Brooklyn edged forward slightly, fear of water seemingly forgotten, to be dried off under her master's gentle hand.

Tony rolled his eyes and remarked to the scientist standing next to him, "Because of course we couldn't have a normal dog." Bruce chuckled.


	5. When No One Else Knows

**Hello! ModernDayBard again! Now I'm taking on a Tony/Brooklyn scene, and it is more serious than the last one. I don't own The Avengers or Brooklyn, and the bold and italicized words are lines from 'Never Surrender' by Skillet, which I don't own either. It's a good song, though, look it up!** **Trigger warning: This story deals with PTSD/Panic attacks.**

_**Do you know what it's like when you're not who you wanna be?**_

Tony stalked down the hallway, pace steadily increasing the further he got away from the others, façade of confident control melting as he felt his chest tighten and his breath become labored. He could feel his own mind start to betray him, memories he tried to fight off creeping into the corners of his mind's eye.

_**Do you know what it's like to be your own worst enemy?**_

The panic attacks hadn't stopped after he'd confided in Bruce, although they had lessened, to a degree. Tony had certainly let on that they were, and he presented a front to the others of being completely in control, though there were times, like now, where he had to pull away from the others to preserve his precious reputation.

_**Who sees the things in me I can't hide?**_

He turned a corner into an unoccupied room and sank onto a couch, knowing he couldn't make it much further. He sat, head in hands, desperately trying to weather the inner storm and regain some semblance of control.

_**Do you know what it's like to wanna surrender?**_

PTSD. He was pretty sure that's what it was. It was obvious, really, given the time the symptoms began and how they manifested. Given his self-diagnosis he *knew* that he should confide in either Sam or Steve—the two soldiers were the likeliest to understand—but he just couldn't bring himself to shatter his carefully crafted double life.

_**I don't wanna feel like this tomorrow; I don't wanna live like this today!**_

He just wanted it all to stop—the noise in his head, the memories on a constant loop ready to overtake him on a moment's notice, the lie that everything was okay. It felt like too much, sometimes.

_*Stop it, that's just the panic attack talking. You'll be fine in a moment, just ride it out.*_

As conscious thought began to completely give way to memories and fear, just before Tony lost all awareness of the tangible world, he became aware of a warm presence sitting beside him.

_**Make me feel better—I wanna feel better!**_

A furry head was thrust into his lap, and a low, concerned whimper cut through his mental chaos. Brooklyn—she must've followed him when he'd slipped away from the others. As the fear continued to choke him, Tony clung unashamedly to the black dog who didn't move, didn't squirm, didn't complain, but simply sat, giving Tony the companionship and comfort she'd been able to sense that he had needed.

_**Stay with me here now...And never surrender!**_


	6. While You're Out

_**Hi, this is Woven with the next installment of Brooklyn's adventures. I hope you enjoy. **_

_**I don't own the Avengers. **_____

Ever since Natasha and Brooklyn bonded it became clear to the rest of the Avengers that Brooklyn played favorites. Oh, she loved to get attention and never left a room without greeting everyone, but there was a definite pecking order. Steve, obviously, was her favorite. However, it surprised everyone that if Steve wasn't in the room the black lab would wander over to Nat. There was another curious habit that the lab seemed to have adapted. Every time that Steve was on a mission, Brooklyn would sneak into Natasha's room and sleep there for the night.

Natasha remembered the first time it happened. The Avengers had been called out everyday that week and were looking forward to having a peaceful weekend. But of course, they couldn't just have a quiet weekend. Fury needed one of them to come out. Steve volunteered.

The whole day Steve was gone, Brooklyn was not her perky self. Moping around the tower, not eating, and keeping watch at the door.

"What's up with Brooke?" Tony asked.

"Oh, I don't know Stark, maybe missing her master?" Natasha rolled her eyes at Clint's snarky remark.

"Well, she can't sit like that all day." Tony approached the lab. "You gotta do something besides laying here girl." He ruffled the hair between Brooklyn's ears.

*_whine* _Brooklyn scooted closer to Tony.

Natasha felt bad for the dog. If she was being honest, she missed Steve as well. Never in a million years did she think that she would be sympathizing with a dog . . . over missing Captain America no less. It was late before she got around to checking on Brooklyn again.

"Still here girl?" Brooklyn whined as Nat stroked her. "Well you are not sleeping here, come on." Brooklyn hesitated, though she got up.

"Come on," Natasha slapped her leg, like she had seen Steve do when he wanted Brooklyn to do something.

Ears perked up, the lab followed Natasha all the way back to her room, watching, as Nat got ready for bed.

"Well come on," Nat said as she crawled under the bed. Brooklyn, tail wagging, bounded into the bed, curling up next to the female avenger. Both were asleep with in minutes.

When Steve came back from his mission early the next morning he was a bit surprised to not see Brooklyn waiting for him. He was starting to get concerned when he didn't find her in his apartment either.  
"Jarvis, where is my dog?" He didn't even bother masking the concern in his voice.

"I believe that she is in Miss Romanov's room sir. Shall I call up and notify her of your arrival?"  
Steve sighed. "No Jarvis, I'll just go up there myself."

Natasha woke up to Brooklyn's warm, wet nose being shoved in her face. "What is it girl?" Then she realized that someone was knocking on her door. She stumbled out of bed, narrowly missing her coffee table as she maneuvered through her living room.

"Steve? You're home?"

"Yeah, we wrapped it up early. Jarvis said Brooklyn was in here . . ."

"Missed you too Rogers . . ."  
Steve chuckled. "Sorry Nat, I did miss you . . ."

The reunion was cut short by a mass of black fur racing through the door, almost knocking Natasha over and ramming into Steve.

"I think someone missed me."

"Probably hungry too, she didn't eat after you left yesterday."

"Well, we should probably get something to eat then. Come on Brooklyn, let's see what we can scrounge up."

The Captain started to walk away only to have Brooklyn yank him back by his sleeve. Steve couldn't help by watch in amusement as his dog parked herself back by Natasha.

"Well then, you want to join us Nat?"

A very genuine smile came across Natasha's face. "I thought you'd never ask Rogers."

After that day, whenever Steve was on a mission that Natasha wasn't on, Brooklyn could be found in Natasha's room. Tony would joke with her, saying that she was growing a heart. But like always the ex-assassin paid him no mind. Besides, Natasha rather liked having her own personal heater.


	7. Tony's FURY

**This is TaliesinTaleweaver, with another chapter of ****The Adventures of Brooklyn****. Marvel owns the Avengers and WovenInASong owns Brooklyn; I'm simply borrowing them for a bit. Enjoy!**

It was, Tony decided, an excellent day for a drive. He went down to the garage and took a moment to admire his Audi R8 because—well, why not? It was a cool car. It was sleek and silver and—

Tony frowned, stalking over to his Audi. Stooping, he peered down at the front hub cap and plucked something small and black off of it. A hair. A hair on his car, his personal vehicle. He spotted another, then another. How did they get there? Were they . . .? He held the hair up to his face to examine it more closely. Yes.

Dog hair.

What in the world? Tony took a deep breath. This was not worth getting angry about. It was just a hair, right? No harm done? It was just—

"Jarvis!"

"Yes, sir?"

"The R8 needs to be cleaned. And waxed. And detailed. And possibly bleached and sanitized, I'm not sure. How do you remove dog hair residue off hub caps?"

"I should think a simple swipe with a clean cloth would suffice, sir. However, I will have it detailed if that would calm your nerves, sir." 

"Nobody likes a wise guy, Jarvis."

"Yes, sir."

Tony shook his head and decided to go for a fly instead. Mach 43 needed some more testing anyway. When he returned to the Tower, he found Steve watching the news in one of the smaller living rooms. Brooklyn was stretched out on the couch next to him, her head resting on his leg.

"Hey, Rogers," Tony said. Both Steve and Brooklyn looked up at Tony's entrance.

"You look a bit red under the collar," Steve pointed out. "Everything okay?"

"As a matter of fact, I found this on my R8 today." Tony held up the hair and waved it in front of Steve. Steve squinted. "A hair?"

Tony gave a sharp nod. "Yes. It's Brooklyn's. It was on my hub cap."

"Okay," Steve said slowly. "And we care because . . .?"

Tony was nonplused. "We care because it was _on my R8_. Didn't you hear that part?" 

"R8. That's a car, right?" 

"You say it like she's just any car. No, no, no. She's an Audi R8 e-tron. She has a 234 horsepower engine and goes from zero to sixty in four seconds. She is not a dog car."

Brooklyn jumped off the couch and loped over to Tony, wagging her tail. Tony reached down absently and rubbed her head, then gestured at the couch. "See, that's what I'm talking about. She's left hairs all over the couch." 

"Well, yes," Steve said. "Brooklyn's a dog. It's summer. Dogs shed in the summer."

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it again because there really wasn't anything he could say. "Well, okay. But not on my car. I've already had to tell Jarvis to have her cleaned."

Steve stared at Tony for a long moment then burst out laughing. "Cleaned? Because of a dog hair? You do drive that thing through New York, right? Brooklyn's hair is probably the cleanest thing that hub cap has touched all week."

"Right, but what happens to my R8 when I take her into the outside world doesn't count. She gets detailed when I return her to the garage. But now the sacrosanctity of the garage is being violated."

Steve wasn't even trying to stifle his grin anymore. "If it makes you feel better, I'll tell Brooklyn to keep out of the garage so your wheels can stay nice and clean."

Tony nodded, feeling vindicated. "That's all I ask." He turned to leave the room.

"But wait," Steve called. Tony paused, turning back around. "What?"

"Well," Steve said, and the look of mischief in his eyes put Tony's guard up. "What if you, say, sat on a couch that Brooklyn had sat on and then went for a drive and got dog hairs in your car? Then what would you do?" 

A look of horror crossed Tony's face. "But—but, why would you even bring up that possibility?"

Steve laughed. Tony glared at him. "I will figure something out," he said tightly, and stalked out of the room. Or, rather, he _tried_ to stalk out of the room. The gravity of his dignified exit was marred by Brooklyn nudging her head against his legs for more pats.

Tony went down to his lab. "Jarvis, open a new template."

"Opening a new template, sir."

The holographic worktable powered up, the design program opening. Tony frowned for a minute, considering how to construct his solution, then settled down to his work. The answer to the problem of Brooklyn's hair on his car was so simple, really. Tony smiled, pleased with himself. Less than an hour later, he completed a prototype and sent the design to his 3D printer.

He picked up the device and looked it over carefully, checking for any last-minute modifications. Nope, it would work perfectly. It was scarcely larger than a deck of cards and more or less shaped like a flying saucer. Not that it needed to be shaped like a flying saucer, of course, but it _did_ fly, so it amused Tony. Tapping a few buttons to program it, Tony slipped the stand of Brooklyn's hair into a designated slot in the device. The device whirred to life and silently rocketed away toward its target.

Well, that was that. Problem solved.

Later that evening Tony was in the kitchen rummaging through the refrigerator when Steve came in, Brooklyn trailing at his heel and Tony's device trailing at hers.

"Stark," Steve said. Tony turned around, a Perrier in one hand and a hunk of Brie in the other. "Rogers. Hungry?" 

"Sure." Steve grabbed a packet of crackers and perched on one of the stools in the breakfast nook. He nodded at Tony's device. "So. That's been following Brooklyn around all day." 

Tony grinned smugly, spreading some Brie on a cracker. "Yup. Brilliant, isn't it? Have you noticed the wonderful lack of dog hair wafting around behind Brooklyn?"

"Yes. Your thingamajig sucks them up."

"Yes, I know that. I designed it myself. I call it a Fur Utilitarian Removal Yaw, or FURY for short."

Steve looked boggled. He opened his mouth then closed it again, staring at Tony. "I don't even know where to begin," he said finally. "Yaw?"

Tony folded his arms across his chest defensively. "It was the best I could come up with at short notice. There aren't _that_ many words starting with a 'y'. I had to Google a Scrabble dictionary."

Steve smirked. "Also, your FURY? You do realize it's just a flying vacuum cleaner, right?"

Tony gaped. "A _what_? Absolute not! My FURY is a sensitive, technologically advanced device intended to collect and eliminate Brooklyn's fibrous material, and is actually programmed specifically to her genetic code."

"So it's a fancy vacuum cleaner."

"It's a _FURY_."

"Sure, okay. It's a FURY. If that's what we're calling vacuum cleaners these days."


	8. Indulgences

**Hello! ModernDayBard again! Now I'm taking on a Clint/Brooklyn scene inspired by stories of my dad's childhood dog, Shiloh. I don't own The Avengers or Brooklyn.**

In the Avengers Tower, certain things are taken as indelible truths: It's impossible to understand Tony and Bruce when they started talking science; Sam is the only one allowed to use, fix, clean, or otherwise _touch_ his Falcon suit; Brooklyn is the Captain's dog; you don't mention Loki to Thor; prying into Tasha's past is a bad idea; and _nobody_ takes Clint's ice cream.

Clint opened the freezer and pulled out the half-empty carton of pumpkin ice cream, his flavor of choice in the autumn months. His after-mission indulgence had ceased to draw comments a while ago, and the archer was of the opinion that nothing could make him self-conscious about it. Then he felt eyes on him. He turned quickly, but it proved to be nothing more than Brooklyn wandering into the kitchen, hoping for a treat.

"Hey, Brook," Clint remarked off-handedly. Steve may have rejected the nickname, but both Barton and Stark still used it occasionally.

He went back to serving up a bowl of his 'self-reward' when he heard Brooklyn give a low whine and felt her nudge his leg with her nose. Feeling charitable, the archer turned, intending to get one of her treats out of the pantry, but stopped when he noticed her gaze was fixed on the carton sitting on the countertop. Brooklyn whined again, then made little smacking sounds that Clint knew were her way of begging.

He hesitated, glancing between the dog and the ice cream, but the mission _had_ gone extremely well, leaving the archer in a good mood, and besides, he had plenty. _*And it's not like it's chocolate or anything, so it shouldn't hurt her.*_

Mind made up, Clint picked up Brooklyn's empty bowl and carefully dished out two small scoops of the orange treat. He was rewarded by a wagging tail and an exuberant doggy grin as he placed the dish before her, then put the carton back as he picked up his own partially-melted bowl. The archer ate slowly, but the black lab scarfed the unexpected bounty down in roughly two swallows.

Clint smiled at Brooklyn, unable to resist a little commentary. "Did you even taste that?"

His smile faded, though, as Brooklyn began to behave oddly. The black lab began whining in a different pitch and intensity than before, shuffling her paws and shaking her head. Clint watched for a second before an explanation occurred to him. "What's the matter, girl—brain freeze?"

She, of course, couldn't answer, but she kept whining and shaking her head, even as she began to run around. Clint started to chuckle, until it became clear that her discomfort affected her coordination, and her mad-dash scramble often involved her failing to turn a corner cleanly and crashing into obstacles.

Now truly worried, the archer set aside his dish ad tried to corral the careening lab, but her nonsensical path made it difficult—nigh on impossible—to catch her. Eventually the commotion drew attention, and Steve strode into the room, taking in the scene just as Clint managed to grab Brooklyn's collar and _*encourage*_ her to stop running, though she was still evidently uncomfortable.

It's a hard thing to intimidate 'Hawkeye,' but Clint was not looking forward to answering Steve's demanding question: "What did you _do_ to my dog?"


	9. A Moment To Breathe

**Hello! ModernDayBard here! Here's my stab at a Natasha/Brooklyn scene. I don't own the Avengers or Brooklyn.**

Even Captain America can be late, sometimes.

Each of the Avengers had had a mission or two that took a few hours to a few days longer than anticipated, so none of them were particularly worried when Steve was late one morning. Brooklyn, on the other hand, only knew that her master had gone somewhere without her...again. The lab seemed to have grown reluctantly acquainted with the fact that Steve would sometimes be gone overnight. Those nights, of course, she spent with Natasha, but the days seemed to wear on the black dog.

That morning, Brooklyn parked herself in front of the door that Rogers tended to enter by and commenced to mope, for once completely ignoring Tony's FURY as it orbited behind her. Tasha beheld the scene with a worried expression. Clint strode in, sparing a moment to glance at Brooklyn before addressing Natasha. "Cap's delayed—he's not going to be back until late this afternoon, most likely. Is she going to wait there for the whole time?"

"Ne," Natasha replied, on an impulse grabbing Brooklyn's leash. "I'm going to take her out for some fresh air." Technically, the leash was a formality. Brooklyn was extremely well-trained, which was fortunate, because the serum she'd been injected with made the idea of anyone but Steve actually restraining her with the leash downright laughable. "Hey, girl!" Romanov called. "Wanna go for a walk?"

Brooklyn showed none of her usual excitement, but Natasha eventually cajoled her outside, even managing to shut the door on the FURY before it followed them. The two wandered around the city for a few hours until the sights, smells, and excitement helped Brooklyn perk up again.

It seemed that Natasha's plan worked, for, by the time they began making their way back to the Avenger's Tower, the black lab seemed more or less back to her normal self. So much so that, on passing a park, Brooklyn began to tug at the leash slightly and whine a little. Feeling generous, Natasha decided that she had time to let the dog play, and allowed Brooklyn all but drag her into the park.

Brooklyn raced around an oak tree, barking at squirrels, kicking up acorns, chasing the browning leaves as they fell, and generally having a grand old time. Natasha noticed that, every few laps around the tree, Brooklyn would stop and treat her to a doggy grin.

"Oh, no," Natasha tried to protest. "I've let myself like you, even let you sleep with me, but I will not play."

Brooklyn, however, would not take no for an answer, and Natasha knew it, too, remembering how persistent the black lab had been as she forced her way into Tasha's affections. It should be noted that the assassin at least _tried_ to preserve her dignity. But as the ebony streak rounded the tree yet again, she abruptly halted her mad-cap dash, spraying autumn leaves into the redhead's face.

"You did that on purpose!" the indignant agent spluttered, unable to suppress a grin when she saw Brooklyn's attempt at doggy innocence. "That's it!" she called in a teasing tone, and before Natasha quite knew what she was doing, she gave chase.

Brooklyn could've quite easily outpaced Natasha, but chose not to. Instead, she kept switching between evading Romanov and chasing her. When she needed at last to catch her breath, Tasha scooped up a nearby branch and heaved it as hard as she could, yelling, "Fetch!" in desperation.

She watched the black dog become a black blur, and mentally added the command to the list of ones Brooklyn's unknown original owner had obviously taught her. Unless Steve had, which was possible, as the Captain often took time to play with his dog, especially after long missions. They continued with the game for a while, but after a bit, Brooklyn refused to drop the branch, and they switched from 'fetch' to 'keep away', and from 'keep away' to 'wrestling'.

It was just too...well, fun, and light-hearted. Natasha couldn't stop herself from laughing. Suddenly, Brooklyn froze, ears perked, then took off at a dead run. Natasha sat up, heart sinking as she saw Steve standing several yards away, now petting Brooklyn behind her ears, rubbing her back, and generally greeting his dog who was enthusiastically bouncing up and down, yapping. Natasha could tell from the mischievous glint in his blue eyes that he'd seen her goofing off with his dog—who knows for how long?—and the master assassin tried to regain her dignity and scramble to her feet.

However, before she was fully standing, she heard Steve very clearly say, "Were you playing with Tasha, girl? Well, go on then. Get 'er. Go get her, Brooklyn!"

Romanov had only a second to glare at Roger's laughing face before she was tackled by the hyperactive Labrador. "I'll get you for his!" she called out, but there was a laugh mixed in with the shout. Finally, Natasha wormed free, then sprinted after Steve, who laughed even as he tried to evade her, Brooklyn barking her encouragement to both parties.

Several people passing through the park stared at the sight of two grown adults chasing each other and playing like children, egged on by the black dog romping around the both of them. Others, mostly older couples, smiled knowingly with amused twinkles in their eyes, but the two heroes were oblivious to them all, simply allowing themselves a break from fighting, spying, lying, yes, even from saving the world—a time to remember that life was more than battles, life was something worth battling _for_.


	10. Will You?

_**Hi Everyone! Woven here with the next installment in Brooklyn's adventures. As always, I don't own the Avengers, just Brooklyn. **_

_**Please enjoy and have a Happy Thanksgiving!**_

Pepper couldn't quite put her finger on it but something was up. Seriously, there was not an Avenger to be found around the tower, but she knew for a fact that none of them had been called out on a mission.

A wet nose pressed against her leg. Pepper paused in her search, momentarily startled.

_Whine. _Pepper let out a sigh of relief. It was only Brooklyn.

"Hi girl." Brooklyn nuzzled into Pepper's hand, silently pleading for more attention. On a normal day, Pepper would oblige. However, today she was on a mission.

_Where could they be? _The kitchen, for once, was spotless. The living room was void of any noise and the lab (or sanctuary as Tony put it) was empty of human presence, although Dummy was sweeping up some broken glass—presumably from an earlier mishap. Pepper caught her quizzical look in one of the glass surfaces. She threw up her hands, but her frustrated scream was cut short by the sound of paws coming across the polished floor… and then felt a nose against her leg once again.

Pepper then remembered that this was Brooklyn's way of letting Steve know she needed to for a walk . . .

It was urgent that she find one of them, Steve preferably. But Brooklyn was letting out sounds that indicated she couldn't wait much longer. Pepper sighed, resigning herself to the task and five minutes later she and Brooklyn were heading to the nearby park.

The CEO soon found herself enjoying the day. Pepper released Brooklyn from her leash so that the lab could run around freely, while she settled down on the bench.

Pepper startled at the Brooklyn's loud bark right in front of her. Hopefully, no one had seen her fall asleep. Brooklyn jumped up, placing her front paws on Pepper's lap, begging for affection. _Kind of like Tony, _she thought. Suddenly, her hand came into contact with something rough. She felt under Brooklyn's collar until she found a piece of paper.

"What's this girl?" Brooklyn barked and nudged the scrap closer to Pepper's face.

"Ok, ok, I'll read it." Already suspecting this to be one of Tony's over thought antics, she read the note.

_Meet me over by the fountain. – Tony_

"Well, that's not suspicious at all. Let's go Brooklyn." So, with the lab faithfully following, Pepper headed toward the small fountain in the middle of the park where she found her boyfriend sitting on a plaid blanket with a basket.

"Hey Pepper!" The scientist sprang up to greet his girlfriend.

"Hi Tony . . . What's going on here?"

"A picnic, it's such a nice day outside I thought I would treat you."

"So you left me alone in the tower with the dog so that I would walk this way?"

Tony frowned. "No, actually I was going to come back and get you, but I saw Brooklyn running around on my way back and adjusted my plans."

Pepper had to admit that it was thoughtful. So, her and Tony settled down to a nice lunch, while Brooklyn continued to run around.

The afternoon was going rather nicely. Then Tony started texting and giving vague replies. Pepper was having a hard time seeing past it. After about fifteen minutes of this, the angry girlfriend jumped up, shocking Tony and caused him to look up from the screen.

"What's wrong Pep?"

She lost it then. "WRONG? WHAT'S WRONG? You've been ignoring me for the past fifteen minutes. We haven't had any time to ourselves for the past few weeks and when we finally get some you end up paying attention to your phone instead of investing in our time together."

There was an awkward pause as Tony debated the wisdom of defending himself.

"You know what you can just think about that, as you sit here, by yourself. Brooklyn! Come on girl." The black lab bounded out of some bushes and toward the still irate Pepper. It was a struggle for her to even reattach Brooklyn's leash and she fumbled around till she came to the medal ring . . . and a small velvet box attached to it.

Pepper was stunned. She slowly untied the box and turn towards her boyfriend.

"You know, I'm glad you decided to spare my life. It would've made it harder to do this." And without more preambles, Tony Stark took the box, opened it, and got down on one knee.

"Pepper, it goes without saying I don't deserve you. You are so humble and selfless—constantly looking out for others before yourself. You're kind, but at the same time you are strong. There's so much about you that I admire and you're unwavering belief in me is, quite frankly, astonishing. I'm not the man that you deserve, but, if you'll have me, I promise to love and protect you with everything I am. So, Pepper Potts, will you marry me?"

Needles to say, Pepper's anger had abated. And the few minutes it took her to answer made Tony slightly nervous. But he needn't have worried. 

"Yes, I'll marry you Tony," came the awaited answer. Brooklyn barked in affirmation, bringing a smile to both the lovers. It may as well have been Christmas morning with Tony's smile acting as the power for all the lights in Stark Tower. After placing the ring securely on Pepper's finger, Tony jumped up, and was about to kiss his fiancée when . . .

"Finally! It's happened at last." The couple shot a glance in the direction of the bushes to find Clint stumbling out, with Steve, Bruce, and Natasha following closely behind.

Pepper turned toward Tony, "they were a part of this?"

To his credit, the genius looked slightly sheepish. "Yeah, um it was Steve's idea to use Brooklyn to deliver the ring." Pepper looked to the lab, who appeared to be rather contented with herself.

"Thank you girl."

_Woolf! _


	11. Lab in the lab

**Hello! ModernDayBard again! Now I'm taking on a Bruce/Brooklyn scene. The three Bruce stories are actually going to form one cohesive storyline, and this is just the first installment. I don't own The Avengers or Brooklyn.**

It wasn't that Bruce didn't like dogs—it wasn't that at all! It wasn't even that he didn't like Brooklyn specifically. Actually, his first few encounters with Captain Rogers' dog were, on the whole, positive; the few times the whole group gathered they were often joined by the black lab, who would drift from Avenger to Avenger, drinking in their pats and praise. All in all, he supposed they'd gotten off on quite a good footing.

He should have known it wouldn't have lasted.

One fateful day, Bruce was up early, as was his custom, and after a quick cup of coffee he'd headed straight to one of the R and D lab. He'd put in a few hours of steady work on his latest pet project, and he felt that a breakthrough would not be long in coming.

Gradually, he became aware of a commotion on one of the lower floors, but Dr. Banner elected to ignore it, as he often did. While the quiet scientist felt he had 'the other guy' well enough in hand to interfere from time to time, it didn't take his genius intellect to realize how nervous his teammates got when he did. Therefore, he did his best to tune out the shouts of "Brooklyn!" "Here, girl!" and "Get back here you crazy mutt!"

Bruce looked up when he heard the lab's automatic doors open, expecting to see Tony, but there didn't appear to be anybody there. At a quiet 'woof,' Bruce directed his gaze downward meeting Brooklyn's blue eyes. All at once, despite being in 'his domain,' he began to feel very uncertain.

"Um...hi...girl. Good...dog." Tentatively, Dr. Banner reached out to pet the lab's head.

At his kind, if hesitant, tone, Brooklyn seemed to perk up, panting slightly and wagging her tail. Unfortunately, the black dog had been given the same serum that had turned Steve Rogers into Captain America. Bruce watched with a stunned expression as carefully calibrated machines were knocked askew, beakers were toppled, smashing on the floor, and in sort, chaos ensued in the laboratory. The cacophony served, at last, to still Brooklyn as she, too, took in the destruction.

As the noise and clamor ground at long last to a halt, the others arrived in the doorway of the lab. Steve hurriedly dashed in, grabbing Brooklyn by the collar and ushering her out of the perceived 'danger zone'. With Brooklyn now safely sequestered behind him, the Captain turned back to the scientist.

"Bruce, I'm sorry! I don't know how she got loose!"

Dr. Banner could feel the others' tension and fear, but he could also feel what they couldn't see: the 'other guy' wasn't about to put in an appearance. No, if anything, Bruce was more shocked than angry. "It's fine," he muttered in a distracted tone. "Don't worry about it." Then, to the surprise of his fellow Avengers, he began to methodically sweep up the shards of glass and reset the machines.

Tony stayed to help, but the others eventually drifted away. As the two 'resident nerds' worked in relative silence, Dr. Banner had time to analyze his response.

He didn't blame Brooklyn; it wasn't like the dog had purposefully caused the destruction. Did he wish the Captain had better kept his dog in check? Of course! Would Brooklyn be actively barred from the lab hereafter? Most definitely! Did he hate Brooklyn now? No! But with a twinge of sadness he remembered the Captain's fear as he had tried to shield his dog.

_*He doesn't trust me to be near Brooklyn now...And I can't say that I disagree with him.*_


	12. Miss Worthy, I presume?

**Hello! ModernDayBard again! Now I'm taking on a Thor/Brooklyn scene...sort of. There's a lot of Steve in this one, but Brooklyn IS his dog. I don't own The Avengers or Brooklyn.**

Brooklyn had now been living at the Avengers Tower for some weeks—though whether the black dog could understand the concept of time was a question only a few philosophers could postulate an answer to—and was, in everyone's estimation, pretty well adjusted and a normal part of life. Mostly. Every now and again, Captain Rogers' dog would pull a stunt that reminded everyone that she was not exactly ordinary...

"Brooklyn!" Steve shook his head as he looked at the black lab who stood before him with her ears perked and tail wagging as if this latest peculiarity were nothing more than a game. There, its handle clenched between Brooklyn's jaws, was Thor's hammer, Mjolnir.

"Brooklyn, give it." At Steve's firm tone, Brooklyn's ears drooped and her tail slowed. Steve was unmoved by her mournful, pleading expression. "Now girl. Drop it."

With a whine, the black lab retreated a few steps, still holding her prize. All at once, the normally obedient dog turned tail and fled with the hammer still in her possession. Surprised by this blatant and willing show of defiance, Steve jogged after his dog, trying to understand Brooklyn's misbehavior.

By the time he caught up with her, he found her in the main living area, surrounded by Clint, Tony, and Thor. The three stared at Brooklyn as she stood with Mjolnir still held tight, tail wagging once more.

"I don't believe it," Tony muttered, absently patting the lab's head as she dropped the hammer at Thor's feet.

Clint shook his head. "I can't believe she understood when you told her to fetch Thor's hammer." The archer looked up and noticed Steve standing in the doorway. "Some dog you've got, Captain."

Thor remained silent, staring at Brooklyn as she ran from Avenger to Avenger, doggy grin wide as she drank in their admiration. When Tony had jokingly suggested sending Brooklyn to fetch his hammer, he'd laughed with the others, because only he knew the joke behind the joke. Clint and tony had assumed it would be impossible for Brooklyn to understand the command, but Thor could understand the inscription on Mjolnir: "Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor." There were few, if any besides him, that should've been able to lift the hammer, much less carry it with such apparent ease.

Slowly, Thor picked up the hammer from where Brooklyn dropped it, still staring at the black lab, who was now getting an apology from Steve. _*How?*_


	13. Spam Sandwich

_**Hi everyone! Woven here with another Brooklyn one shot. Thor is back and this time there is more food involved. **_

_**As always, I don't own Marvel or the characters. Brooklyn is the only one I own. **_

_**Enjoy!**_

Steve liked strange food and in fact would eat just about anything. Whether that reality was a product of the amount of traveling that he did, the time period that he grew up in, or just a quirk of his personality was debatable. Regardless, every so often he could be found in the kitchen enjoying some new dish that defied the team's expectations of the Captain. So it was no surprise that his dog had similar taste for the unusual and interesting.

This particular day found Steve, Thor, and Brooklyn all in the kitchen of Avengers Tower. Steve was regaling Thor with stories of what life was like in the 1940's. They, of course, eventually reached the topic of food. Steve at this point was telling Thor about the Spam sandwiches his mom would make him as a kid.

"What is this Spam?" Thor questioned. Of course this is the point of the conversation that Tony and Clint walked in.

"Why are you guys talking about a over salted, super processed, canned meat like product?" Tony asked. His first words had been so loud that Brooklyn, who had been sleeping at this point, looked up and gave him a look akin to annoyance.

"It's not that bad Tony," Steve insisted. "You've probably just never had it prepared right."

Tony looked a little sheepish at this point as he bent over to give Brooklyn an apology pat. "I've actually never had it."

"Oh, so Thor should just take your word for it then." Tony rolled his eyes at Clint's sarcasm as Thor and Steve laughed.

Steve reached up into one of the cabinets and placed a familiar blue and yellow can on the counter. He then retreated to fridge and pulled out a few more ingredients.

"I'll just make it for you guys and we can leave it to Thor to decide for himself." Brooklyn, hearing the cabinet and fridge door open, began to stalk her master around the kitchen as he went about preparing the dish.

Having combined the canned meat, mayo, relish, and seasonings and slathering the mixture onto pieces of white bread; Steve distributed the snack to his friends.

"This is rather tasty, might I have another?" Thor inquired. "Master Archer, what do you think?"

Clint shrugged, "it's not my favorite. Tony, what do you think?" Tony would have given some sort of sarcastic reply but he was too busy gulping down water.

Steve was laughing rather hard at this point, prompting Brooklyn to stand on her hind legs at a spot between Tony and her master. Smelling something vaguely meat-like, she quickly located Tony's half-finished sandwich. Which was scarfed down without much ceremony.

"Brooklyn!" Steve yelled. The lab looked up from her plate with a rather puzzled look on her face.

"Ah, leave her alone Cap," Clint insisted.

"Indeed," Thor added with a laugh, "it is not uncommon for her to receive scraps from the table. What is wrong with her getting them from the table?"

Steve looked at his dog, who was still standing at the island with a rather happy look on her face. He shook his head and called her too him. She walked up to him, tale wagging, as he reached down to pet her.

"Well, better you get it than the garbage."

Tony managed to get out, "I'm _**cough**_ not so _**cough **_sure about that."


	14. A Furry, Friendly Face

**Hello! ModernDayBard again! This time, Coulson's in the spotlight. With permission, this story is in the same fictional universe as my one-shot 'What Must Be Said', so the Avengers know that Phil is alive. **

**As always, I don't own the Avengers or Brooklyn.**

It'd been a few weeks since Phil had capitulated to Agent May's insistence that he bring in 'the big guns'—the Avengers—and been forced to reveal to the six heroes that his demise hadn't been permanent. All things considered, the revelation had gone relatively well, but even now, whenever the fledgling SHIELD collaborated with the Avengers, the long-suffering director was acutely aware of the thick tension in the air, of the fact that some trust had been broken—perhaps beyond repair. Coulson was beginning to doubt the wisdom of hiding the truth for so long, and a part of him mourned the lost trust, unsure of how to regain it.

Melancholy musings aside, there were missions to run, agents to check in with, an agency to run, and (on this particular day) new Fitz-Simmons gear to deliver to the Avengers tower for testing in Stark's R-and-D lab. (The 'genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist' may have preferred to do his own work, but he was not above acknowledging and integrating the advancements of others in their particular fields.) Normally, Phil would've had May or Billy deliver the package (they couldn't exactly use the postal service), but Coulson was doing it himself for a reason he couldn't quite put into words—a weak hope that, maybe this time, something would have changed.

Upon arrival, however, it appeared that the frosty atmosphere hadn't thawed since the last time he'd been in the same room as Stark or the others. Disappointed, the balding man began to turn away, when he saw Steve passing by in the hall. He paused, not only at the sight of his idol, but also for the black blur who left her master's side to approach and greet the newcomer.

Phil couldn't suppress a smile upon recognizing the black lab he'd searched so long for what felt like a lifetime ago. "Hey girl," he said quietly, rubbing the dog behind her ears.

"Brooklyn doesn't normally react that well to strangers," Steve observed, his expression puzzled.

Phil had to smile at the name—somehow, it fit her. "Oh, Brooklyn and I aren't strangers—though I am surprised she remembers me." The lab's content expression and wagging tail were a testament that she did, indeed, recognize the director of SHIELD, and remembered him fondly.

"So, you didn't just leave orders for people to find her and give her to Cap," Stark observed quietly, "You looked yourself. You just let someone else deliver her and her things."

"Last thing I did before forming my team," Coulson admitted, marveling at how long ago that seemed, now. "And actually, I _did_ drop her off—I just made sure you all were out at the time."

He didn't stay long after that, and while the two men still seemed conflicted at best around him, the simple acceptance of the four-legged member of the Avenger family had gone a long way towards lifting the director's spirits, giving him hope that, eventually, the others could come around as well.


	15. Code Green

**Hello! ModernDayBard again! I know it's been a while, but we're back! I'm taking on another Bruce/Brooklyn scene. The three Bruce stories are actually going to form one cohesive storyline, and this is the second installment. **

**Two reminders: 1: this is all pre-Ultron, and 2: I don't own The Avengers or Brooklyn.**

It wasn't anybody's fault—that much was clear. All the decisions that had led up to that afternoon's debacle had been made from the best of intentions and were, at the time, the best courses of action to take. For instance: given Brooklyn's obvious intelligence and loyalty to Steve—not to mention the physical boosts of the serum both Captain Rogers and his dog had been injected with—it made sense that the black lab be trained to come on missions with her master and his team. And that day, just like on any other 'code green' mission, the call to bring in the Hulk had only been made when it was clear the survival of the team was in serious jeopardy.

It wasn't anybody's fault that the two happened to coincide.

Actually, the firefight had been so hectic, that it wasn't until after Natasha's 'lullaby' and the return of Dr. Banner that the rest of the team noticed Steve looking around, appearing confused and more than a little worried. A quick glance at the assembled heroes quickly revealed the reason—one missing four-legged Avenger.

A sickening pit of worry opened up in Bruce's stomach as Cap started calling for his dog—deeper worry than even that he saw on his teammates faces, as he was the first to realize one fundamental truth:

_That was the first time Brooklyn had seen the Hulk._

It was a nerve-wracking two minutes before Rogers found the lab in question, huddled under one of the SHEILD vehicles, and it took another _three_ minutes for Steve and Natasha to coax her out. Even then, she was trembling even more than she did at bath time—which was saying something for the hydrophobic lab.

Forget a pit of guilt—now it was a cement-filled boxing glove thudding into his abdomen. Okay: so maybe he hadn't trusted himself around Brooklyn in the weeks following the incident in the lab, but the dog had been the only one oblivious as to why, still willing to greet him with the same unconditional affection that she showed the whole team. But now, as her terror-filled blue eyes turned to him, he _knew_—Brooklyn could sense the 'other guy' inside him. Now that she'd seen the Hulk, and somehow made the connection with the quiet scientist, she'd never trust Bruce Banner again.

_I guess that makes two of us, then._


	16. Bathtime

**Hello! ModernDayBard again! Now I'm taking on another Clint/Brooklyn scene –this one courtesy of my mom's Pomeranian, Scarlett. I don't own The Avengers or Brooklyn.**

Brooklyn was a smart dog—no one questioned that. Normally, the black lab's exceptional intelligence was an advantage, but in one special case, it just made things harder—

...Bath Time.

Somehow, Cap's dog could tell the difference between 'I' or 'you' 'need a bath' and 'Brooklyn needs a bath'. She also quickly deciphered 'You-know-who needs a bath,' but the Avenger's didn't realize how much trouble they were in until she began to understand 'you-know-who needs a b-a-t-h.'

Given Brooklyn's hydrophobia and above-average strength and speed, wrestling her into the water long enough to get her clean was a difficult feat for any of the heroes but Steve. Normally, Cap took care of it himself, but if he was out on a long mission...

"Clint! You were just supposed to take Brooklyn on a walk!" Nat snapped, taking the mud-covered lab. "How did you—never mind, I don't even want to know. Just take care of it."

Clint tried for a winning smile. "Want to give me a hand, Nat?"

The redhead only snorted. "It's your mess, you clean it up."

"But Brooklyn likes you!"

"Not well enough to let me bathe her," the former assassin refuted. "She won't even let Steve—not without putting up a fight."

Barton still tried to prevent the inevitable. "But—"

"No, Barton. Tony's up in the lab with Bruce, so leave them alone. Thor's out of town with Jane, so you don't have back up."

'Hawkeye' was not a quitter, though sometimes that backfired for him. "Come on, Nat," he wheedled, "help a friend out—" At the annoyed look crossing his friend's face, the archer realized he'd pushed her too hard. _Oh, crap. She's going to—_

"Hey, Brooklyn—bath time!" At the dreaded words, the filthy dog took off at a dead run. Clint spared a moment to glare at the smirking woman, but, knowing he'd lost, he ran after the whimpering form.

[Break]

Two Hours and three escape attempts later, Brooklyn's fur was glossy black once more. Nat walked into the flooded bathroom after the dog had fled at last, taking in the absolute mess and the soaked and exhausted Clint sitting against the wall. Wordlessly, she handed him a mop and left.


	17. Ruffle Your Feathers

**Hello! ModernDayBard again! As the resident Hawkeye writer, I'm here with the final installment of our Clint/Brooklyn trilogy. Hopefully, you enjoy! **

**I don't own The Avengers or Brooklyn.**

If you ask any dog owner, they will tell you: dogs are individuals with their own personalities, and with personalities come personality quirks. For the most part, these quirks are what endear a dog to its family; often they add to the fun of living with said dog. Other times...

Clint stormed into the main 'hang-out' area of the Avengers Tower, the fury and tension in his stance a stark contrast to the upbeat attitude of the black lab bounding at his heels. Steve looked up, took in the scene, and gestured for Brooklyn to heel. She obeyed, apparently unaware of whatever she had done to get on the archer's bad side.

"Do I want to ask what happened?" Rogers ventured at last, slipping a restraining hand under Brooklyn's collar—he'd gotten the sense that it would _not_ be a good thing if his dog jumped up on 'Hawkeye' at the moment.

"Did _you_ teach her 'fetch'?"

Of all the possible answers to Cap's question. That was not one he had expected. "I-uh-what?"

Clint rolled his eyes, still standing in the doorway as he repeated his question slowly. "Did. _You._ Teach. Her. To. Fetch?"

"Uh, no," Steve answered at last, still confused but deciding to play along. "She already seemed to know that trick form her pre-serum days."

He didn't ask why Clint had wanted to know, and, as it turned out, he didn't need to. "In the future, Cap—keep Brooklyn out of my way when I say I'm goin to work on target practice."

"No problem," the soldier agreed quickly, regarding his dog with some disbelief. "I'm sorry about that—she didn't do it on the last mission..."

"No, she didn't," Barton conceded. "She never does it in the field, only here. I'm just tired of dealing with teeth marks on my arrows—the ones she doesn't break."

Steve nodded. "I'll do what I can." Placated, 'Hawkeye' started to turn away, only to be stopped by Roger's final question: "'Out of curiosity, how many did she get?"

"All of them," was the growled response, assuring Steve that his dog's quirks were impressive ones, at least.


	18. A Guy With A Dog

Hi! It's TaliesinTaleweaver again, with a Captain America chapter. The Avengers belong to Marvel and Brooklyn belongs to EnduranceInHope; I just took them all out to play for a bit. Enjoy!

The first time was because Brooklyn had decided they were cutting south across the park, past the Columbus sculpture. Steve would have preferred to take a more direct route back to the Tower, but he also didn't feel like arguing with seventy pounds of serum-enhanced lab so he let Brooklyn win this one. They meandered on, Steve letting Brooklyn more or less choose their path.

The weather was just starting to get brisk, but was still warm enough that the park was dotted with joggers, and families, and little clumps of kids throwing Frisbees and baseballs. Brooklyn loped happily around and through the people, moving fast enough that Steve broke into a light jog to keep up with her.

One second Brooklyn was trotting down the pavement and the next second she had swiveled 180° on a dime and come to a complete stop. If Steve hadn't been training with the Avengers for who-knows-how-long, he would have fallen over his lab and sprawled onto the ground. As it was, he just barely managed to keep his balance as he became stationary all too quickly.

"Puppy!"

Steve looked over and saw that the reason Brooklyn had stopped so abruptly was about four feet tall with a curly halo of dark hair puffing out around her smiling face. She had her hands buried in Brooklyn's ruff. "Nice puppy!" she said again.

Brooklyn panted happily and wagged her tail. A woman pushing a jogging stroller and looking enough like the little girl that she had to be her mother hurried up and grabbed the little girl's arm to pull her away. "Jazzy, you can't just pet strange dogs without permission!"

Jazzy's face fell. "But . . ." her lip quivered.

"It's okay," Steve said quickly. "Brooklyn's great with kids."

"Yeah, it seems like that," the woman agreed. "But Jasmine didn't know that when she starting petting it." She grinned. "Besides, I'm trying to teach her some manners. Jazzy, what do you do if you want to pet a dog?"

Jazzy turned to Steve and offered him a hopeful smile that showed a huge gap between the front teeth. "Please, mister sir, can I pet your puppy, mister?"

Steve nodded. "Of course."

Jazzy patted Brooklyn's head then wrapped her arms around the lab's neck. She was small enough and Brooklyn large enough that she didn't even have to kneel. "Nice puppy!" She looked up at Steve. "What's her name?"

"Brooklyn."

"Hi, Brooky," Jazzy crooned. Steve winced at the nickname. Brooklyn gave an excited wriggle.

"Are you sure this isn't a problem?" Jazzy's mother asked, jiggling the stroller back and forth to keep the evidently snoozing baby inside still asleep. "I'm sure you have some place you need to be going."

Steve thought about the tactical planning he wanted to get done before a training session he had scheduled that evening, then looked over at Jazzy and Brooklyn—who were sprawled in a giggling heap on the pavement—and shrugged. "Not really."

The woman smiled. "That's kind of you. Jazzy really wants a dog but our landlord doesn't allow pets."

Steve thought about Tony's irritation at dog hair in the Tower and smirked. "Mine isn't always thrilled about her either."

The woman laughed. "Even if mine did allow dogs, the place is small enough that if we had one, one of the kids would have to sleep in the kitchen sink. Come on, Jazzy, we still need to run by the store before dinner."

"Aww, _Mommy_," Jazzy said, but she gave Brooklyn one last pat and got to her feet.

The second time was because Brooklyn decided to flop down onto her belly in front of the main entrance of the Natural History Museum as they headed toward the metro station.

"What's the matter, girl?" Steve asked. "You can't be tired."

Brooklyn woofed, but otherwise ignored Steve. Ten seconds later, Brooklyn sprang up and yipped.

"Brooky!"

Steve looked over and saw Jazzy, her mother, and the stroller coming towards them. Brooklyn whined, wagging her tail so fiercely the whole back half of her body moved. Steve unclipped her leash and she dashed toward Jazzy, who giggled and patted Brooklyn enthusiastically.

"Hello again," Jazzy's mother said.

"Hello, ma'am," Steve said. This time the little boy in the stroller was awake and looking around with bright eyes. "Hey there, bud," Steve added.

"So, uh," Jazzy's mother said. "Is there a reason your dog was just kind of sprawled in the middle of the sidewalk?"

Steve shrugged. "Not sure, but I think she was waiting for you and Jasmine."

Jazzy's mother frowned. "How did she know we were coming?"

"She has a good sense of smell?"

Jazzy's mother laughed. "I'm Megan, by the way," she said, holding out her hand.

Steve shook it. "Steve."

"Have you lived in New York long?" Megan asked.

"Born and raised. You?"

"Three months. My husband got a job with Columbia Records." Megan's face clouded. "It's been kind of hard on Jasmine. She had to leave all her friends behind and she's a shy kid, so she hasn't made any new ones."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Shy?"

Megan grinned. "Well, shy with other kids anyway. Dogs are another story."

The times after that were usually in Central Park, though occasionally in the surrounding areas. Steve wasn't exactly sure how Brooklyn knew Jasmine was around but she clearly did and would decide to meet her. Playing together clearly made both the kid and the dog absurdly happy, so Steve didn't even try to stop her. He laughed the day Jasmine produced a dog treat from her coat pocket and offered to Brooklyn. "She's come prepared, huh?"

Megan rolled her eyes and laughed. "She made me buy some the other day and has been carrying them with her everywhere just in case we run into you guys."

Steve grinned. "An early Christmas present for Brooklyn."

"Can I play with Brooky for Christmas?" Jazzy asked.

"Honey, no," Megan said. "Mr. Steve doesn't want to bring Brooklyn to the park for you to play with her on Christmas." She turned to Steve. "Speaking of Christmas, do you have any travel plans?"

"No, I'll just be here in the city."

"Is your family still here?"

Steve shook his head. "Not anymore. Just me."

Megan drew her eyebrows together. "I'm sorry. I've never spent a holiday without at least part of my family." She paused. "It won't be fancy, and I'm sure you have other plans anyway, but if you want to, you'd be more than welcome to spend Christmas with us. It would just be me and the kids and my husband."

Jazzy looked over at the adults, her interest clearly piqued. "Please, please, please, Mr. Steve! And—" she paused dramatically "—you can bring Brooky!"

"Thank you both," Steve said, "but I wouldn't want to impose."

Megan laughed. "Impose? Not at all! Besides, you'd really be doing us a favor, because then Jazzy actually _could_ play with Brooklyn for Christmas."

Steve grinned. "Well, all right then, if you're sure it wouldn't be any trouble."

Jazzy giggled. "Yay!" She threw a stick and clapped her hands as Brooklyn caught it in the air. "Mommy, look at that!"

"I see!" Megan said, then turned to Steve. "You have an impressive dog. And we'd love to have you over for Christmas dinner."

Steve laughed. "Thanks."

Brooklyn dropped the stick at Jazzy's feet and the little girl threw it again. Once again, Brooklyn snatched it from the air. "You," Jazzy said loudly, "are the bestest stick-catcher ever in the whole world anywhere. Also, I saw you on TV, Mr. Steve."

Steve blinked at the abrupt subject change. "What? Okay?"

"I told Mommy, but Wayne was crying and when Mommy gave him a bottle and came in to see, you were gone."

"Jasmine said you were on the news," Megan said. The inflection of her voice rose oddly, so that Steve wasn't sure if it was a question or an apology.

"You're a Venger," Jazzy said, throwing the stick again.

Megan's eyes widened. "Wait! You're Steve _Rogers_, aren't you? Captain America!"

"Yeah," Steve said, a little embarrassed at the obvious amazement in Megan's tone.

"Oh my god! I can't believe I didn't recognize you sooner. I can't believe I've been letting Jazzy bother you all the time!"

Steve laughed. "I told you it's not a bother at all."

Megan's face was red. "This whole time I've just been acting like you're a regular guy."

"I _am_ a regular guy. And honestly, I've enjoyed being just Steve with you and Jazzy. Sometimes, I don't want to be the guy in the star-spangled suit who saved New York from aliens."

Megan still looked unconvinced.

"Seriously. I'm just a guy from the Bronx with a dog and, like a million other Americans, I do what I can to serve my country."

"Yeah," Jazzy said, playing with Brooklyn's fur, "but _you _have a really cool shield and kill aliens."

"Well," Steve said, grinning. "There is that."

"Still—well—I'm—" Megan seemed to be a loss for words. She took a breath. "It's an honor to have met you, Mr. Rogers."

Steve laughed. "Please don't call me that. Just Steve, like you always have."

"And I," Jazzy declared, "get to have my bestest friend over for Christmas!" She rubbed Brooklyn's back. "Isn't that right, Brooky? We can play _all day_ on Christmas."

Brooklyn wagged her tail and barked, then licked Jazzy's face. Jazzy giggled. "I love New York! My bestest friend lives here!"

Steve looked down at Brooklyn. He was pretty sure she, despite being a dog, managed a smirk. She laid her head in Jazzy's lap and wagged her tail. If Steve hadn't known better, he would have sworn she had planned this whole thing from the beginning.


	19. A Furry Shoulder

**Hi Everyone! It's Endurance with the last Thor installment in Brooklyn's adventures. This is post Thor 2. **

**I don't own the Avengers, just Brooklyn. **

The first person Thor tried to contact after landing in New York was Jane. He wanted to check up on her to see how she was faring after their adventure on the Dark World and the battle against Malekith. But when he reached her apartment the supervisor promptly informed him that Jane had left for North Carolina, but had left a message for him that she would be back in a few weeks. Since he did not have a key to her place (and the super refused him entry), Thor set his course to the next best place, Avengers Tower.

"Welcome back sir." Jarvis' mechanical voice greeted him. "I'm afraid the only person here is Ms. Romanov. Shall I notify her of your arrival?"

Thor nodded to himself, "That would do well Jarvis, thank you." The Asgardian prince made his way to the nearest sitting room. He knew that the female agent would find him, with or without the direction of Tony's automated butler. When he walked into the room however, it was not a human presence that greeted him.

"_Grrrr." _

Thor had only heard of Steve's dog and he was at a loss of how to placate the black beast. He held up his hands,

"Whoa, easy creature. I mean you no harm." Brooklyn continued to growl, her whole body tense, ready to attack. 

"Brooklyn! Easy girl." As soon as the black lab heard Natasha's voice, it was like a switch went off. Her body relaxed and her tail began to wag as she pranced past Thor to her second favorite agent.

"I'm sorry about that Thor. She's gotten pretty protective of us lately. Especially if Steve is gone."

"Its quite all right Lady Natasha. It is good that Brooklyn is so watchful."

Natasha smiled at Thor's understanding nature. "Sit down and tell me how you've been. Jarvis is arranging for refreshments."

So, the two Avengers settled in and exchanged stories of missions and adventures. Eventually, the conversation broached the topic of London and the events leading up to the attack by Malekith.

"Even after the attack on Asgard, my father wanted to wait out Malekith, at risk to Jane and the rest of the kingdom. I did not think it right," Thor punctuated each word with a light "slap" to the table, startling Brooklyn momentarily. "Especially, not after . . ." Here he froze. Natasha's brow furrowed in concern. 

"After what, Thor?" He cradled his head in his hands and took a deep breath as if to gather courage. It was then that Brooklyn perked up. She cocked her head and she looked to Natasha with a silent question in her blue eyes. Nat nodded to the animal, who then got up and walked over to slumped-over Avenger. Situating herself by his right side, Brooklyn laid her head on Thor's lap and nudged his arm.

This managed to cox a brief smile from Thor as he began to pet Brooklyn's velvety fur.

"Malekith was responsible for the death of my mother. After her death and my father's refusal to take action, I turned to my brother for help. Loki died attempting to help Jane and I defeat Malekith."

"I'm so sorry." Natasha knew what it was to lose family and, as much as she hated Loki, she saw how much it was hurting Thor.

"Your condolences are appreciated. I know you do not . . . did not care for my brother, but thank you all the same." Thor scratched Brooklyn behind the right ear, which coincidently was her favorite place to be scratched. She pushed further against him as her tail beat furiously against the carpet.

Natasha laughed, "You've made a friend."

"It would seem so. She is very attentive for an animal."

"Dogs have been know to be something of a comfort to people. She will often make her way to each of us after a mission to "check up" on us. I'll tell you there's nothing better to relieve stress than a furry dog curled up next to you."

"A shoulder to lean on," Thor inquired with a chuckle.

"Yeah, pretty much. A furry shoulder anyway. But she provides some laughs as well. Like the time she first encountered the pool . . ."

That's how the rest of the Avengers found them later on. Laughing over stories of Brooklyn's antics, while Thor continued to stroke the dog; who was more than content to let him.

**Hope you all enjoyed. Let us know what you think! – Blessings, Endurance **


	20. On Pets and Dogs of War

_TaliesinTaleweaver here. The Avengers belong to Marvel and Brooklyn belongs to EnduranceInHope. I'm just taking them all out for a spin._

"Good morning, Captain Rogers."

Steve glanced up to see Thor standing over him. "Morning. Welcome back."

The burly god looked down at Brooklyn, who sat at Steve's feet, tail swiping along the ground in excited wags. "I see you have availed yourself of a hunting companion. Excellent choice. She looks as if she could bring down a bilgesnipe singlehandedly."

Steve grinned. "Yup, Brooklyn's a beaut—wait, what? Did you say 'hunting companion'?"

"Yes. Is that not the correct term? Or perhaps you do not intend to use it for hunting? Perhaps it is a dog of war?"

Steve looked down the easygoing lab, imagined her running a terrified fox to ground, and shuddered. "Why on earth would you think Brooklyn is a hunting dog? Have you ever even seen me hunt?"

"Well, no. That is true. I haven't. I thought perhaps you had decided to remedy that accidental oversight."

"It's not an accidental oversight. Hunting for entertainment is appalling."

"So it's a war dog then." Thor gave an approving nod. "Excellent. It looks to be a powerful specimen."

"She's not a war dog."

"Oh. Then what is it? You don't use these animals to pull wagons or carriages here, do you?" This last possibility was offered doubtfully, as if even Thor himself didn't think it likely.

"No, we don't use dogs to pull wagons or anything. Well, as least not outside of Alaska."

"Then what's it for?"

"_She _is not 'for' anything. Brooklyn is just my dog."

"What is your dog supposed to do?"

"She not supposed to do anything. I take her for walks and she likes to sleep in my bed and she's gotten pretty good at making everyone spoil her."

"So . . . she is supposed to guard you while you sleep? I do not understand how it all works, but I think Tony Stark's tech does an adequate job of keeping the tower secure."

"No, she's not supposed to guard me while I sleep. She's just a pet. Just. A. Pet. An animal companion."

"So this dog is supposed to do . . . nothing? It just follows you around all day and then you feed it?"

"Exactly!"

"But why?"

Steve sighed. "Just because, that's why. We like dogs. We like furry animals who let us pet them and miss us when we're gone."

"This world is very strange."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is."

Brooklyn got to her feet, took three steps forward, and plopped down directly in front of Thor, gazing up at him expectantly.

Thor looked down at her. "Your dog is in my way, Rogers."

"Sure looks that way, doesn't it?"

"Does it want something? It looks like it wants something."

"Affection probably. She probably wants you to pet her."

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, to show that you like her?"

Thor made a humphing noise in his throat. "In Asgard, Rogers, we do not pet dogs to show that we like them any more than we pet our weapons to show that we like them."

"I feel sorry for the dogs in Asgard. And I've _seen_ you pet Mjölnir."

Thor looked affronted. "I do not pet Mjölnir."

"You run your fingers over the handle and look at it adoringly. Sometimes you even talk to it. That sounds like petting to me."

Thor spoke stiffly. "It is proper for a warrior to show respect to his weapons for aiding him during battle. It is not petting."

"I'm just saying, if you can pet a hammer, you can pet my dog."

Thor reached down and touched the tip of a single finger to the top of Brooklyn's head. "Very well. I pet your dog. Does that satisfy you, Rogers?"

Steve waited silently.

"She's very soft," Thor said, after a pause. He reached down and touched her head again. Brooklyn pushed her head against his hand. "She likes me. Look at that, Rogers. She likes me. She's quite a fine specimen, isn't she? Very friendly."

"Yes," Rogers said. "And that's why we have pet dogs."


	21. Reconciliation

**Hello! ModernDayBard again! I have the bittersweet privilege to write the last installment in this story, which not only wraps up this whole series, but also provides the conclusion to the Bruce/Brooklyn arc. Hopefully, you've enjoyed reading these as much as we've enjoyed writing them!**

**Two reminders: 1: this is all pre-Ultron, and 2: I don't own The Avengers or Brooklyn.**

So many times, Dr. Banner found himself in situations where all he could do was wonder, '_how in the world did this come about?'_ Take that afternoon, for an example:

Brooklyn wasn't feeling well, which worried Steve, as the serum had ensured he hadn't gotten sick since the early 40's, and logic would dictate the same be true of his dog. Still, all examinations showed that Brooklyn was, in fact, ill, (fortunately, with a non-life-threatening bug, though it still left her very uncomfortable and temporarily helpless), despite the fact that the serum's effects were still in place. In the end, they supposed, it didn't really matter why or how—Brooklyn was simply sick, and she would need care as she recovered.

And it wasn't as though there were a shortage of willing caretakers, either: Brooklyn was, at this point, the darling of everyone living in the Avenger's Tower. Even Bruce, who'd tip-toed around the dog ever since 'the lab incident', and who had lost her trust after an unexpected 'code green', hated seeing the normally energetic black lab so listless and in obvious discomfort. No, it wasn't _willing_ caretakers they lacked—only able.

Or, more accurately: available.

Tony, for one, was at a week-long conference he could not extricate himself from, however much he wanted to, and 'Hawkeye' had left days ago—before Brooklyn got sick—only saying that the 'higher ups' had called him away for a while, and he would be unavailable except in case of world-threatening catastrophe. No problem—Steve and Nat were Brooklyn's two favorite people, and more than willing to nurse (spoil) the black dog until she recovered…then, they were both called away on individual missions within three hours of each other, leaving Bruce alone. In the Tower. In charge of caring for the lab who was just as afraid of him as she was of water.

Technically, Thor _was_ available—he was on-world and didn't have a specific mission—but he was currently spending some time in Europe with Jane. It was a testament to Bruce's discomfort and desperation that he actually considered interrupting the Asgardian's off-time, but ultimately, he realized just how bad an idea that truly was.

Left with absolutely no viable alternatives, Dr. Banner resigned himself to his task, internally resolving to do so while minimizing actual contact with the ailing dog.

Carefully, Bruce approached where Brooklyn lay on her cushion in the main living area, the next dose of her medicine in one hand, a bowl of water in the other. He saw the black dog tense as she smelled his approach, but in her weakened state, she was unable to bolt. Not completely sure how to soothe her, but certain her current stress level could only negatively impact the lab, the curly-haired scientist crouched in front of his patient and began to speak in low, (hopefully) comforting tones.

"It's alright, girl; nothing's going to hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you. You're going to get better—everything's going to be alright…" and so on. He kept talking as he proffered the medicine, which was hidden in one of the lab's favorite treats. She took it and, thankfully, swallowed it without any protests, but her caregiver attributed that more to illness-related weakness, rather than any kind of trust on Brooklyn's part.

Still, he kept up his soothing patter as the ebony-furred dog slowly lapped up the bowl of water. By the time Dr. Banner stood, Roger's dog had released the earlier tension.

By her next dose, she'd consented to let him lay a tentative hand on her head—hadn't even flinched—and after the third, he'd pretty much parked himself by her cushion, and somehow, the two had become unlikely friends.

This was demonstrated some weeks later, after Brooklyn had fully recovered, and during one of Bruce's darker moods. The mild scientist had withdrawn from the others, wrestling—as he did sometimes—about whether the good he was doing as the Hulk outweighed the risk he ran every time he let the 'other guy' take over, and about how long it would be before he crossed the line and lost the trust of his friends and teammates. A part of him regretted forging such bonds, for, though he truly cared for the others, this time with them couldn't last, and isolation would be so much lonelier, more painful now that he had tasted the alternative—

A cold, wet nose in his hand, and a warm, furry body pressed against his leg cut short his melancholy musings, and Bruce couldn't resist a small smile as he stroked the smooth fur of Brooklyn's forehead, reminded at once that sometimes—on treasured, rare instances—trust that had been lost could be found once more.


	22. End Note

Hello Everyone,

First of all, on behalf of all three of us, I would like to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this series. The support means a lot to us and we are glad that you were able to enjoy the adventures of Brooklyn and the Avengers.

Secondly, I also wanted to announce that **there will be a second Adventures of Brooklyn series **that will be coming out in the near future. All of those stories will take place post- Age of Ultron and feature some of the newer additions to the Avengers team. Whether or not they will also be post Civil War remains to be seen as I have not yet seen the movie. ModernDayBard has already agreed to collaborate with me on this project. I will post another author note when we publish the first story.

Blessings,

Endurance


End file.
